Non compos Mentis

Madness, Reality. Sadness

 

They play their pianos in harmony,

They’re all harmonized,

No Non Compos Mentis derange blubbers.

 

All perfection,

No predicament,

No obscenity.

 

Their laughter creased through veins,

It contributes to the state of vexation of the demented,

It coerces the baboons to preposterousness.

 

They are reconciled with their gaiety,

Meanwhile aberration holds the demented mind,

The dunderhead jumps from one apex to another,

Not even one psychic can prognosticate this tale.

 

The ones who are restored should alleviate the stress of the others. 

Reviews

[Rocans]

I like your use of words here but I'm not sure I understand the essence of the poem. Refreshing read though